


And if Your Right Hand Causes You to Sin

by Anonymous



Category: The Handmaid's Tale (TV)
Genre: Body Horror, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Medical Torture, Punishment, Trick or Treat: Trick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-23 01:18:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12495200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Punishment served after Moira attempts, and fails, to escape Jezebel's.





	And if Your Right Hand Causes You to Sin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FreshBrains](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/gifts).



The room is white. 

White walls, white curtains, brilliant white sunlight streaming in through the massive picture window. The robe they dressed her in is white, as are the sheets of the bed on which she is bound. 

Her left arm is strapped to the bed by her side, her legs are similarly restrained. She can’t move them at all, she is so tightly bound. Her right arm is stretched out perpendicular to her body, strapped to a white board that extends from the bed. She is the only thing in this room that is not white – the skin of her outstretched arm a rich dark brown that stands in stark contrast with the rest of her surroundings. 

A door opens and Aunt Alice enters the room, a doctor dressed in white following close behind. Aunt Alice approaches and stands beside the bed. She looks down at Moira, impassive and scrutinizing, while the doctor moves to a table at the side of the room. Moira hears a rustling noise, and then that of metal instruments clinking against each other. The sound sends a bolt of panic through her. 

Moira swallows and looks up at Aunt Alice, worried. Aunt Alice smiles. It does not reach her eyes. 

“Now I’m sure you’re aware, Moira, that attempted escape from Jezebels is a grievous offense.”

Moira nods, unable to talk, gagged by a white strip of fabric in her mouth. 

“Normally we would send those who commit this offense to the Colonies, but because you have performed your duties so very well, I have petitioned on your behalf.”

There is a rustling noise to her left. Moira turns her head to see the doctor approaching the bed, sharp instruments in his green-gloved hands. 

“ _And if your right hand causes you to sin_ ,” Aunt Alice continues, “ _Cut it off and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to depart into hell._ ” She pats Moira’s outstretched arm in a gesture that could be misinterpreted as kind. “You don’t need hands and feet for your purpose.”

Moira’s panic blossoms into a red, piercing horror. She howls through the gag in her mouth, feeling it become wet with her saliva and twists on the bed. _No,_ she pleads with her eyes, desperate. _Do not take anything more from me_. 

Aunt Alice tilts her head and looks down at her, impassive, as Moira attempts to yank her arms out of the straps. 

The doctor approaches and places the instruments on a table beside the bed.

“Now dear,” Aunt Alice continues, “If you struggle like that, it will just make the doctor’s work more difficult, and you’ll be left with a jagged wound.”

“Perhaps we should sedate her,” the doctor says, and when Moira glances toward him, she sees a frown etched deep into his features.

“The instructions were clear,” Aunt Alice says, and Moira feels her eyes roll in her skull like those of a dumb, panicked cow led to slaughter as she turns to look at her. “She was to feel this pain.”

“Yes,” the doctor says carefully, “but I’m concerned that her flailing is going to cause injury to me while I attempt the operation.”

Aunt Alice sighs and steps back from the table. “Very well,” she says. 

Moments later, a needle is inserted into Moira’s arm. She feels the cool liquid shoot into her arm, seeping into her nervous system. Within moments her frantic movements cease, but the panic remains. She can feel every sensation as the doctor swabs at her arm with antiseptic saturated gauze. He leans over her to draw a dashed line on her forearm with a thick, black marker. 

He does not look at her as he brings a shiny, silver scalpel to the mark he had delineated in her flesh, between what was hers to keep and theirs to discard. 

The scalpel bites into her skin and then the only colour in the world is red.

**Author's Note:**

> I know this isn't what you asked for when it comes to Moira. Moira's fate and the damage to her hand in the 1990 film adaptation of The Handmaid's Tale has stayed with me for a long time. I kept waiting for the same theme and injury to pop up in the current series, however Moira's injuries in the series are much less visible and obvious. Hope you enjoyed all the same.


End file.
